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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24048736">After the Mission</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chuizard/pseuds/Chuizard'>Chuizard</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Lingles RPs [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dungeons &amp; Dragons (Roleplaying Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Blood and Injury, Dragonborn (D&amp;D), Drama &amp; Romance, Drow, Flashbacks, Half-Elves, Homebrew Content, M/M, Slavery mention, Slow Romance, Tieflings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2019-03-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2019-03-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 17:06:50</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>14,084</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24048736</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chuizard/pseuds/Chuizard</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>After a mission with Ventus (mentioned briefly) Jingles is finally back on the dragonborn's Stronghold Island. He is still upset at Luck for trying to sell a dragonborn girl that they rescued during their first adventure together. Will they make amends? Can Luck explain himself?</p>
<p>Posting the roleplays from Discord for myself and Ali (foreignobjecticus). If you happen to read them and like them somehow let us know! There may be two distinct writing styles in here because it's... well... a roleplay.</p>
<p>Jingles belongs to me and Luck (aka Kratis) belongs to Ali (foreignobjecticus). This was posted with permission from both parties.</p>
<p>Ventus belongs to Fen.<br/>Destane, Pelmort (the half-orc mentioned), and Institute of Defense belongs to Ash.<br/>Mia, Ahnaka, Briyir, and Karnir belong to Ali.<br/>Balasar, Shieldbiter, and Mayo are technically mine but haven't been brought up again.</p>
<p>Recommended songs: https://youtu.be/7aGUu4ea-s0, https://youtu.be/6DILENcLL9A, https://youtu.be/SZlkIb6yTZ4</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Luck/Jingles</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Lingles RPs [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1734376</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>After the Mission</h2></a>
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                  <p><em>What an insane week</em>, Luck thought to himself as he finally allowed his shoulders to slump. He felt the tension drain from his muscles as he slipped down into the scalding hot water of the bath. These dragonborns might not have the decency to provide a proper tavern, but their bathhouses were second to none. The private tub Luck had managed to nab was just what he needed to relax while Ventus and Jingles went out on a quest. <em>Jingles.</em> If it weren’t for the scalding water turning his muscles to jelly, Luck would have tensed up at the thought. <em>Jingles really didn’t like me trying to sell that dragonborn girl…</em> Luck huffed out a sigh which puffed through the dense steam in the bathroom, swirling around little particles of water in front of his face. <em>He’s too good for me. A lot of heart in that little drow…</em> Despite the water and salts doing their best to relax him, Luck couldn’t fight off the worry that he’d really put his foot in it with the whole slavery thing. <em>What an idiot. He probably <strong>despises me</strong></em> Reaching for a wash cloth, Luck dipped the material into the water and began vigorously scrubbing his legs. The sensation took his mind off thinking about Jingles for only a while, and soon he was out of lower body to clean. He huffed again, splashing water across the floor as he slipped down and curled his tail out of the tub. With the washcloth still dripping wet, Luck threw the material over his face and exhaled deeply. The sensation was cool and refreshing on his eyes until he tried to breathe in and, rather stupidly, realized he was practically waterboarding himself. He choked and spluttered, whipping the cloth back down and slapping himself in his chest for his trouble. <em>What an idiot.</em> He sank down below the surface in a wave of little bubbles.</p>
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                  <p>After Jingles got back from the mission he immediately went to the bathhouse. That canyon they visited was ungodly hot and during that time Jingles felt like he did nothing but sweat in his costume. It was a huge relief to finally be able to bathe- alone, despite Ventus' whining. The elf should have gotten there sooner if he had wanted the bath. Being as restless as he was that night, he also explored the stronghold where he discovered a half-orc wizard in the tower. After teaching that kid some magic, Jingles was interested in learning some more spells of his own. The half-orc was kind enough to lend him a couple of books after a brief magical experiment. The jester studied the books quietly in bed until he was tired enough to go to sleep. Jingles didn't get too many hours of sleep, but he was used to waking up early so he did. Even without a mission there were so many things to do and even more thoughts racing through his head. Dressed in his costume and make-up Jingles hung around the bunkers for a while. He hated that most of the places here were so... public. The fact that he couldn't have his own private room bothered the jester a lot. It felt like he had to keep on his costume all the time. Jingles was used to putting on his happier façade and performing for others, but even he needed breaks.</p>
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                  <p>Thankfully it was a time of day where the bunkers were mostly empty, so Jingles used the space to continue reading the books he got from the wizard the night before. He was still troubled by the fact he had introduced that dragonborn boy to magic, and Jingles wanted to know what the kid could learn. He mostly looked at the basic spells- just simple cantrips. Most of them seemed harmless enough but the way that kid used Mage Hand so violently... That's what worried Jingles the most. He took notes of the potential spells the kid could get his hands on. It didn't look good. There were spells like Fire Bolt and Poison Spray mixed in. God, if that kid used spells like those on that poor dragonborn girl he fought with... Jingles' stomach cramped at the thought. He almost wanted to go back to the canyon to make sure something like that wouldn't happen, but even if he did Jingles doubted the kid would actually listen to him. The best he could do for now is prepare for the worst. If Jingles had to get in between that kid and someone else again, he would like to be ready. While studying the possible spells that kid could learn, Jingles found a few he was actually interested in learning for himself. Hm. Mending... His hand idly brushed over the repair on his costume. Luck. It had been a couple of days since he thought about the man. Jingles was still mildly upset with him, but hadn't really gotten a chance to speak with him. He glanced up from the books and looked around. He was still alone for now. Jingles found himself wondering where Luck was and what he was doing. He shook his head. No, no! Don't think about him! As much as Jingles wanted to still be friends with Luck, he really wasn't sure if he could trust the man anymore. Ugh... that poor dragonborn girl. Jingles was glad Luck hadn't managed to sell her. Slavery was not an idea he liked at all.</p>
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                  <p>Having had his bath at lunch time meant most of the eating areas were almost empty cafeteria. This meant Luck could have some bread and leftover meats in peace, and the tiefling was certainly feeling the need for a bit of peace and quiet reflection lately. The bath had done him a world of good, and now his hair had dried and was back in a smooth ponytail, he was beginning to feel a lot better about the whole Jingles issue, not to mention the frankly mental situation he'd gotten himself into joining these dragonborns. Sure, the Institute of Defense were dicks for trying to sell off the dragonborns... or kill them, whatever - he had to admit he really hadn't been paying all that much attention when he got roped into this absurd organisation - but that was their prerogative. What did he have to do with them? Couldn't dragonborns protect themselves? They're <em>dragons</em> for crying out loud! <em>It's not all that dissimilar to the beginning of the tieflings' troubles</em> his mind stubbornly pointed out, and he couldn't help but frown at his own mind's irritating logic. Yeah. He was right; it was similar. Luck hacked a few slices of bread from the loaf left out in the eating area and helped himself to a hunk of roast and cheese. A younger server very kindly handed a cup of steaming tea across the counter into his hand and he thanked them with a curt nod. As he walked to a far end of the hall, he began to wonder if the abundance on hot water on demand wasn't coming from some dragonborn heating a vat of water further down the hill. It was such an incredible luxury to not have to wait for the hot water to boil and Luck worried he might get used to it if he stayed on the island much longer. Luck ate his late lunch in silence bar the brief few moments he spent chatting to the server who'd come out to clean up the last of the food left out.</p>
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                  <p>"You're late for lunch. Almost missed my tea when you came in before," she beamed at Luck as she wiped down the tables. "I bet you get bored of us strangers coming in and disrupting your community," Luck replied with a grin of his own, sipping his tea and dabbing the last few crumbs of cheese up with a bit of crust. "Folks like you come and go, true, but you always do good by us. I was saved by a lizard fellow not unlike your friend, but he never wanted to join our cause; was just in the right place at the right time. It’s all well and good for people to be there in the moment, good Samaritans and all, but it takes a special kind of person to come all this way. You and your friends will always have our thanks whether you stay here a week or a year. I wish there were more good people like you out there. What’s your name?” she asked suddenly, and Luck answered without thought, startled as he was by the undeserved praises. “Luck? Well aren’t we <em>lucky</em> to have someone like you,” she leaned forward across the wooden table and planted a kiss on Luck’s check before the tiefling could even flinch. “Thank you.” Two kisses in one week! He was on a role! Though he certainly didn’t deserve the praises the silly woman had been singing, he appreciated the gesture. She didn’t have to know that he’d tried to sell the girl he’d saved not three hours after rescuing her… Luck was starting to think that kind of behaviour might not fly with this new group. Lunch had been a welcome distraction, but now his belly was full and his aches and pains soothed by the bath, it was time to clear his mind. Luck went to go lie on his bed in the bunkhouse, expecting to find it clear at this time of day. Much to his shock, as he opened the door he walked straight into the person he was thinking about.</p>
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                  <p>Unable to sit still for very long, Jingles ended up being upside-down while he studied the book. His head, shoulders and upper back were on the floor, while his lower back leaned against his bed and his legs were straight up the the air. Maybe some extra blood flow to his brain will help him understand this spell better and keep his mind off of Luck. He muttered the incantations under his breath and held the book with one hand while the other hand practiced the proper movement. Nothing really ended up happening since it was a Mending spell and Jingles wasn't concentrating on anything to mend. That's when Jingles felt like there was a pair of eyes on him. He glanced away from the book to see if anyone else was there, and nearly lost his balance when he saw that Luck was now in the room. Speak-or rather think- of the literal devil and he shall appear. A part of Jingles wanted to greet him with smiles and hugs, but he remembered the whole situation with the dragonborn girl and that memory stopped him from doing so. He closed the book he was reading and set it to the side. Jingles swung his legs and used the momentum to do a flip back to his feet. He then turned on his heels and smiled at Luck. "Good afternoon, Luck~!" Jingles greeted too cheerfully. He was putting on his usual front for Luck to prevent himself from ruining their relationship further. As much as he disliked what the man did, they were still co-workers and had to get along somewhat. He picked the book he was reading off of the floor and placed it on his bed. "Don't mind Jingles here! He was about to leave anyways." Jingles spoke in third person. Usually he did that for amusement and humor, but right now he was just covering up his bubbling resentment towards Luck. Jingles gathered his notes and books into a neat pile to prepare to leave. He figured Luck came here to rest, and he wouldn't be able to do so if the jester hung around.</p>
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                  <p>Luck stopped in the doorway, one hand on the jamb as he clicked his heels together. <em>Great.</em> Maybe he should change his name again; <em>Luck</em> wasn't feeling right at the moment. He watched with thinly-veiled amusement as the jester flipped himself over from his ridiculous position on the bed and spoke to him in a confusing mix of cheerful tones and irritated glares. The little drow was a weird one... "You don't have to leave. There's plenty of beds for everyone to fall off," he joked, but then worried it might have come out wrong. "I was just coming to get my rapier to sharpen," he lied, crossing the room in a few strides with his long legs. "What were you doing?"</p>
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                  <p>Jingles stopped his movement when Luck said he didn't have to leave. He wanted to leave though. Jingles wasn't one who enjoyed getting into verbal fights but... He remembered arguing with Luck on there first little adventure together. It had only been a few days, but it felt like months had passed. Jingles hated how his perception of Luck changed so drastically in just one day. He thought of him as a handsome, confident tiefling before, but now all he could see is a greedy man who would do anything for some coin. He couldn't stand it. He almost didn't hear Luck as him a question. Jingles forced his thoughts away so he could pay attention. "Hm? Oh, I was just-" He wondered if Luck was actually interested in what he was doing, or just striking up a conversation. Maybe Luck would apologize about how he acted before. He doubted that. Jingles wasn't sure if he could tell him what he was up to, if he couldn't trust him. His inner secretive liar came up to change his words. "-doing some light reading~ Keeping the mind sharp!" He tapped the side of his head. Jingles put his books and notes into his pack, which was nearby his bed.</p>
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                  <p>"What book are you reading?" Luck asked, and his ears perked up unconsciously as he tried to catch a glimpse of the book Jingles stuffed into his bag. He seemed to be reluctant to share what he was reading and it made Luck more curious to find out. "You don't seem the type to sit still and read a story. Is it a spellbook maybe?" Luck mused out loud. From his stash of belongings in the corner of the room he pulled his rapier and wrapped the sheath belt around his waist. He wasn't really sure what he was doing now. Once he had the rapier his excuse to be in the room would be gone and he'd have to leave, but Jingles' curious behaviour had him interested in staying despite his best judgement. The apology he'd been formulating since speaking to the server at lunch was now itching to roll off his tongue, but he knew it would be a flood of unrehearsed words and mumbled <em>sorry</em>s that wouldn't get him anywhere. <em>And besides, he's too good for a cheap apology</em> Luck thought with a twinge of guilt. <em>If you can't tell him why you were a colossal arsehole, then you can't apologize properly. Save it for later or don't say it at all</em> his worthless brain reasoned, and Luck's resolved steadied as he adjusted his rapier under his coat.</p>
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                  <p>For a brief moment Jingles' eyes narrowed at Luck. It disappeared as soon as it came. Jingles was determined to keep up his act. "What a <em>luck</em>-y guess~!" He accentuated the pun with a twirl. "If you must know, I was learning the <em>Mending</em> spell!" It was hard not to smirk when he announced this. As petty as it was, maybe Luck deserved to be replaced by a simple cantrip. He decided to clarify why he was learning the spell. "If I learn that I won't have to bother you if I tear my costume again~ Isn't that just grand?" He put salt on the verbal wound. Jingles was still very conflicted about pushing Luck away, but at this point he was doing it out of habit. Trying to get close to this man- or anyone- proved to me much more trouble than it was worth. Besides, Jingles knew he'd never let himself be friends with a man who tried to sell someone out to slavery like that. If Jingles wanted less pain in his heart he would be smart and just make Luck out to be another adoring fan, but that may be difficult if they continued getting assigned missions together.</p>
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                  <p><em>I won't have to bother you... Isn't that just</em> grand<em>!</em> Oh. Luck didn't expect that. The jibe stung, cutting right through Luck's defenses as if he weren't acting at all, and the tiefling knew he'd just visibly flinched. <em>Oh god, that hurt.</em> His jaw clenched and, shockingly, he felt his eyes and nose prickle for the briefest of moments before he turned away. <em>Too fast! Too fast - act natural!</em> Luck feigned a cough and then a real sneeze saved him as the tickle from fresh tears irritated his nose. He sneezed twice, then sniffed loudly, blinking away the tears he could miraculously pass off as allergies. He paused for a second, mind spinning as he planned his next moved, then sneezed twice more. <em>Thank god</em> he thought to himself, <em>now get <strong>out</strong>.</em> Without even bothering to excuse himself, Luck bustled past Jingles and out of the bunkhouse as quickly as he could.</p>
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                  <p>The sunlight outside stung as his dark eyes struggled against the bright daylight, and with one hand covering his face it was hard to navigate. The tiefling bustled past a number of nameless dragonborns before he managed to find a secluded building on the outskirts of the settlement, and there he burst into tears. "What the <em>hell</em> is wrong with you?" he sobbed aloud, slapping himself in the face and wincing at the sound, his face stinging. "Pull yourself the <em>fuck</em> together!" he slapped himself against and recoiled at his own hand, blood vessels bursting under his red skin. <em>You let him <strong>IN</strong> you idiot! And now he thinks he knows you and he <strong>doesn't</strong> and now he hates you! You did this to yourself!</em> He dropped to his knees in the dirt, wrestling in anger as the scabbard dug into the ground and poked into his side. so he wrenched the belt from his waist and tossed it viciously across the ground. Taking his anger out on the weapon did nothing to quell his anguish, but Luck feared his rash actions might attract attention, so quietened up for a few moments, tears pouring silently down his cheeks while he listened out for footsteps. The terror of being discovered helped quash his rage, and with a defeated sigh he turned on his knees and crumpled into the dirt. Heedless of the state he would be in when he rose, Luck adjusted himself and proceeded to sit, crying freely and quietly as the grief he'd kept hidden welled up inside and he allowed himself his first proper cry in <em>years</em>. "I'm sorry, Jingles."</p>
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                  <p>Jingles easily saw through Luck's little cough and sneezing ruse. Either the tiefling was getting sick, or what Jingles had said got to him. His smile faded as he saw the man rush passed him while he held back tears. Jingles didn't understand why he felt bad. The man deserved it. This should be a good thing, after all! He successfully pushed away Luck and now he can continue studying spells! But Jingles didn't want to study anymore. He wanted to - no! Why should he follow Luck? Why was he worried about Luck? Jingles kicked at nothing in frustration. The bell on his shoe jingled violently. He spent the next few moments pacing back and forth indecisively. 'Don't do it. Don't follow him. This is how we block him back out. It will hurt less next time.' Jingles tried to convince himself. He moved towards the doorway. 'No, you stupid fool, don't you dare!' Jingles groaned in irritation at himself and then ran out the room. But it was already too late. By the time Jingles got outside he couldn't see the tiefling anywhere. 'See? Now go back inside and forget about him.' Jingles tried to coax himself back into the bunkers. His heart ached. Jingles asked a few nearby dragonborns if they saw a tiefling and which direction they were going. Some actually did see the man and pointed Jingles in the right direction.</p>
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                  <p>He searched the settlement swiftly, until eventually he came across a building near the edge. Barely in earshot Jingles heard a voice. '-rry... Jingles.' That was Luck's voice. He froze in place in fear the bells on his costume would give him away. 'It's not too late to turn around.' The logical part of his brain reminded him. Jingles took in a breath and moved closer as carefully as possible. He had a lot of experience sneaking around in a jingling costume, so he managed to stay quiet for a few steps. When he was close enough he heard muffled sniffles and crying. Jingles felt worse. 'Leave.' He turned to leave. The bells gently jingled with his movement and gave away his position around the corner. Jingles had to hold in a frustrated curse and stood still again. Maybe Luck didn't hear him. Maybe he can still walk away.</p>
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                  <p><em>Jingle noise.</em> Luck's ears shot out straight and he shifted his feet under himself the instant the sound carried around the side of the building. <em>Oh my god <strong>run</strong></em> Luck sprang up and bolted away, feet hitting the ground in heavy, hard thumps as he tore up the grass behind him, not giving a shit whether Jingles could follow him now. He could outrun the drow, he was sure, and Luck would rather run the length of the island than face Jingles at that moment. Thankfully the buildings on the island were set out in such a way that it was just about impossible to see anything once he'd passed one corner to the next. Shifting between running on the dirt, pavement, and grass, Luck zigzagged and backtracked his way through buildings until his lungs began to ache and legs turned to jelly. At last, near the edge of Destane's headquarters, the island gave way to a steep rocky slope that led further down to the cliffs by the water's edge. With more careful steps now, Luck picked his way down the crumbling edge of the cliff, head disappearing below ground level quickly, and at last he felt safe. Climbing slowly, his leather boots slipped and kicked rocks over the edge of the cliff and he clung to the side, tail out to balance himself as he gripped the rocks. It looked like this part of the cliff had been climbed before, but some handholds worryingly gave way as he went. Eventually he found an outcrop to sit on and rest, catching his breath and sniffing loudly as he cleared his nose. <em>That was close.</em> He felt a bit like a coward in that moment, Luck had to admit, but he reasoned that really it wasn't a fight he'd just bolted away from - it was much worse, and so it was only fair he left so he could prepare himself, right? It hurt Luck more to realize he was only justifying his fleeing just the same as he used to. Reluctantly, with everything that had been brought up today, he was loathe - but forced - to remember the past.</p>
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                    <em>“Kratis, come on! Put the jewellery back and run - we have to leave!” Ahnaka begged, pulling hard on his arm as he stuffed a handful of gold chains into his pocket and made for the door, dragging his friend along without a word. God he was so young. They burst out through the alleyway door Luck had opened with his skeleton keys and the two teenaged tieflings barrelled through the pitch-black night into the light of the moon on the boardwalk. From behind them, the sounds of jingling brass handcuffs and shrieking whistles pierced the ocean air like a thousand hideous needles. “You shouldn’t have gone in there! I told you everything he taught you was trou-” Luck clapped his hand to his friend’s mouth to silence them. “Shut up Ahnaka,” he snapped, his ears twitching as he tried to listen out for which way the guards were coming from, but the dull roar of the ocean was drowning everything out. He turned then, looking into Ahnaka’s eyes, and froze. The distant light from the waning moon was weak overhead, catching only the tips of the waves in the harbour, but each speck of light was bouncing, caught gleaming in the orb of their friends’ eyes. Luck’s breath caught in his throat and he felt his hand drop without realizing. Ahnaka had always been beautiful, inside and out. What were they doing here with Luck NOW? God, they were in trouble. If they caught Ahnaka with him of all people… He swallowed and did a stupid, teenage thing. The mood just seemed right. “In this light-” he started, hand grasping theirs as he leaned in closer… <strong>“Fucking hornheads!”</strong> “Go!” Luck abandoned his move, heart tearing apart from embarrassment and fear as he pushed Ahnaka away and bolted towards the Crestport guards.</em>
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                  <p>His memory was patchy after that, and he could never quite remember how he got away from the pack of guards that were thirsting for tiefling blood that night. They’d chased him of course; why else would he head them off? But somewhere along the way they must have gone after Ahnaka… whether it was this pack or another patrolling nearby. Hell, it could have even been some of the human dockworkers in the end… All Luck could remember with certainty now was the great splatters of blood all over the boardwalk later that morning and the sickening panic when he realized he couldn’t find hide nor hair of Ahnaka and no one else had seen them since that last night. All because of him. He’d been the one to break into the pawn shop. He’d been the one who kept thieving despite Ahnaka’s pleas. He’d been the reason they’d come down to the shop and <em>begged</em> him to leave. They’d tried to warn him, get him on the straight and narrow. “You’re so good with card tricks; you’re Lucky! Why don’t you give that a go? You’d make a killing with the sailors,” they’d laughed and smiled, tried so hard to drag him away from all the shit he’d learnt, kept him away from the rebels who’d brought him up and dragged him down into the civil conflict in the city. “You don’t have to stick with them; come stay with us. We’ve got an extra room mum says you can stay in if you pay your way. Come on… <em>please</em>.” Luck breathed in a slow, deep breath, and as he exhaled he hoped he’d run out of breath all together.</p>
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                  <p>The man had heard him. Shit. Jingles turned to face them with a fake smile and a bullshit excuse on the tip of his tongue, but Luck fucking <em>bolted</em>. The tiefling ran passed him without a word or a glance. Jingles watched him run. He wanted to call out and tell him to wait, but stubbornly refused to do so. Luck disappeared in-between buildings. If Jingles had tried, he could have caught up with Luck and followed him, but he didn't see the point. The man clearly did not want to talk to him and he should be thankful for that. 'See? He gets it. Now forget about him.' His inner voice chimed in. He was about to head back to the bunkers when something on the ground caught his eye. It was Luck's belt and rapier. 'Mine now.' Was his initial reaction, but Jingles shook his head. No, his thieving days were behind him. He wasn't as desperate as he had been a few years ago. If he really needed coin, he'd rather put on a show to get it. Still Jingles walked up to the sheathed weapon and picked it up. He tried to wrap the belt around his own waist, but it was rather loose around his thin hips. Jingles opted to put the belt around his shoulder for now. He figured that Luck was going to want his rapier back, and that's when he was going to talk to him.</p>
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                  <p>Jingles returned to the bunkers and gently placed the belt and rapier down with his stuff. He paused and looked up at Luck's pile of things in the corner. He should put it there, he reasoned, but then Luck might not come and ask for it back. 'That's a good thing!' His logical mind pointed out. 'You shouldn't talk to him.' Jingles spent the next few moments debating on what to do. With a defeated sigh he picked up the rapier again and put it with Luck's things. That's where it belonged. If Luck were to go looking for his weapon he can easily find it there. Admittedly it was tempting to take something else from Luck. Jingles could nab a deck of cards or even that poor teddy bear. That'll get Luck's attention. He stubbornly shoved those thoughts back into the depths of his mind and returned to his bed. God damnit, did he need to take his mind off of this man... Jingles eventually took his new books and notes back to the tower where he could meet the the wizard and get some more insight on these spells and how they worked. He hadn't quite figured them out yet, even though they were cantrips. While studying with the half-orc his stomach let out a demanding growl. The jester realized he hadn't eaten all day. After an apology he went off to the mess hall to grab some much needed dinner.</p>
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                  <p>The cafeteria was full of dragonborn and noise. Most were enjoying their own conversations and meals. Jingles initially didn't see any free seats. One of the dragonborn seemed to notice and waved at him to come over. He got up from his seat and offered it to the jester. Jingles was thankful for the kind offer and sat down at the table of strangers. The table consisted of three dragonborn: a gray one, a navy blue one, and a red one. The red one was the dragonborn who offered up his seat. The three were happy enough continuing their own conversation while Jingles ordered some food. As soon as the server left the red dragonborn leaned against the table and looked down at Jingles with a smile. "Jon'as, right?" He asked. "Jingles." The jester corrected. His two other buddies giggled at the red dragonborn and wheezed out 'I told you so's. The red dragonborn snorted and shook his head at his mistake. He kept the smile on his face. "Sorry 'bout that. Nice ta finally meet ya Jingles!" He held out a big scaly hand for the jester to shake. Jingles smiled and politely took the offer. "Dez are mah buddies." The red dragonborn nodded over to the other two. "Shieldbita-" The blue one spoke up. "Oi." "-and Mayo." The grey one gave a small wave. "Hey." "An' I'm Balasar!" The red dragonborn finally introduced himself. He proudly presented himself by standing up straight. "We 'eard great things about ya and we were wonderin' if you could perform a little ta'night... after ya eat o'course." Balasar said. Jingles' heart leapt with joy. This was definitely something he needed after a day like this. "Of course, of course! I'd be happy to~" He chimed, eager please some newfound fans. The three dragonborns cheered, held up their drinks, and downed them. "We look forward to it." Balasar grinned.</p>
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                  <p>Luck watched the sun set to the left of him, brilliant red against the wine dark sea. No wonder people as climbed down the cliff before; from here the view was unobstructed by the trees, leaving only the vastness of the water to reflect the dying sun. Luck lifted his hands, dirty and calloused, and turned them in the red light. Against his dark red skin, it made him glow. A gentle breeze was picking up against the cliffs now, and with a shudder he realized it was getting cold in his exposed position so he decided it was time to make the climb back up the cliff. It was easier going now he'd stumbled his way down, and he found the footholds he'd missed before with ease. At the top of the cliff, Luck stood and stretched his hands above his head, vertebrae popping a warning. Serves him right for sitting hunched up on a cliff for three hours... It was dark by the time he'd wound his way back to the residential quarters. The island was big, and in his running Luck had managed to get woefully lost. He might have been to Destane's headquarters already, but the route they'd taken was vastly different to what Luck had run in a blind panic, so naturally he ended up walking in circles for close to an hour. As he passed the cafeteria, a loud cheer broke through the dull chatter emanating from the building, followed by clapping and the very distinct tingle of brass bells. Luck's chest tightened, but despite his own body warning him against it, he couldn't help but peek through the windows.</p>
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                  <p>Inside was just as he'd expected: 30 or so dragonborns were grouped around a space cleared on the floor watching Jingles doing some stupid handstand trick on the back of a chair. ...actually that was pretty impressive. The little jester went on to add another chair to his  stack with the help of a strong looking dragonborn, and the crowd roared with laughter as he engaged them with waves and a joke on behalf of the buff dragonborn that must have been suitably insulting to have them blushing furiously in front of the crowd. Despite himself, Luck smiled, then caught himself smiling and whisked his head away from the window. At least in the dark he knew he would have been invisible to the people inside, so his smile went unnoticed. He decides to ignore it himself.  Luck's stomach growled as he smelled what we left of dinner coming from the back side of the kitchen doors, so the idea struck him to speak to the cooks out the back instead; that would save him the embarrassment of entering the cafeteria altogether.</p>
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                  <p>"What happened to you, Luck?" the server from lunchtime blurted out loudly as he sauntered into the light pooling outside the kitchen doors. In the light, it was obvious he'd been in the dirt, and his dirty, scratched hands didn't help.  "I'll tell you if you promise not to tell anyone else," he smiled, forcing on his best smooth façade once more. The girl nodded vigorously, picking up the bucket she'd been emptying outside.  "I went off into the woods to train and I slipped in some mud. After that I wasn't so careful to keep my clothes clean," he laughed, and the girl raised an eyebrow.</p>
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                  <p>"Why can't I tell anyone that?" she asked in confusion, and Luck backed himself up with his old line.  "Never let them see you training; they'll think your skills aren't up to scratch. Fighting's all about appearances," he explained in such a matter-of-fact tone that the girl was convinced without issue. Made sense after all.  "Then what are you doing skulking around here instead of doing your laundry?" She gasped suddenly, throwing her hand to her mouth in shock.  "You haven't missed dinner, have you?" she asked, horror-stricken, and Luck couldn't help but laugh.  "Well I couldn't go to dinner looking like this, could I?"  Before he knew it, Luck had been whisked into the kitchen and plonked down on a little chair by the back of the kitchens, a plate of cold meats and vegetables materializing in front of him before he had a chance to catch up to what was happening.  "You didn't have to go to all this effort. I was just after some bread," he admitted with a shy look, but the girl was having none of it.  "You can sit down and eat your dinner with me like a civilized person, thank you very much," she admonished and sat her own plate of food down beside Luck, adjusting her skirts as she sat. It was a simple gesture, really, but so kind. This girl had pulled him and set his worries to rest with kindness twice already today. He didn't deserve it, and that alone made him appreciate it all the more.  "Thank you..." he left the question unasked and she took the hint.  "Mia." "Thank you, Mia," he nodded gently, a genuine smile finally gracing his lips. What a day.</p>
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                  <p>The performance Jingles put on made most of the dragonborn stay in the cafeteria long after they finished their meals. There were claps, laughs, cheers all for the little jester, and Jingles soaked in the attention like a sponge. It was like everyone in the room was now his best friends. Balasar suddenly tugged at Jingles arm to get his attention. "Come with me. There's someone missin' out of the fun." He claimed with a toothy grin. Jingles blinked in confusion for a moment, but then smiled and nodded. He wouldn't mind doing a few extra tricks for someone who missed his main act. The red dragonborn lead him to the back where the kitchen was. "Oi Mia!" He burst through the kitchen door. "Ya gotta see dis lil jester! He's a riot!" Without waiting for a response Balasar then stepped to the side for Jingles. "Aye Jingles, do dat thing ya did with my arm earlier!" He held out his arm. Jingles knew immediately what Balasar was referring too. To give the trick extra flair he first cartwheeled passed the dragonborn. Immediately after he did an impressively high backflip towards Balasar. The back of his legs hooked around the dragonborn's muscular arm and Jingles was now hanging upside down. Balasar bellowed out a laugh. His arm supported the smaller jester with ease. "That was even better than the first time!" Jingles hadn't gotten a good look into the kitchen or at Mia until he was upside down. That's when he noticed that there was someone else near the back. Luck. His heart skipped a beat and the surprise made him lose grip and fall onto the floor. His bells jingled in distress when he hit the ground. Balasar looked down at Jingles with concern. "You a'right?" Thankfully the fall to the ground was short. Jingles was quick to stand up and he turned away seemingly in embarrassment. "Y-yeah... Just tired." Jingles mumbled and walked out of the kitchen.</p>
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                  <p>"Sorry Mia." Balasar quickly apologized and followed him out of the kitchen. The jester was making a beeline for the exit, but Balasar caught him by the shoulder. "Ya sure yer okay?" Asked the dragonborn. Jingles forced a smile on his face to reassure his new friend. "Don't worry! It's not the first time I've fallen!" He told the dragonborn. "I must've just overworked myself. I'll be alright after a night's rest." Balasar seemed to have bought the explanation and smiled. "Sorry 'bout that. Ey maybe tamorrow I can pull Mia away from her work to watch." He let his scaly hand slide off of the jesters shoulder so he could leave. Jingles nodded. "Of course!" He then continued to make his way to the exit. On his way out some more dragonborn bid Jingles farewell and wished him a good night. He gave them all smiles and waves before he left. Once outside he briskly walked towards the bunkers. His mind raced with questions. What was Luck doing <em>there</em>? Was he actively avoiding him? Of course he was! From the way the tiefling fled earlier, what could Jingles expect? His heart twisted with mixed feelings. He <em>should</em> feel okay about this. Less contact and interaction with Luck was what he needed. He should distance himself from the tiefling. But all his conflicting emotions from earlier hit him like a truck. This caused his chest to pinch with pain, which made it hard to breathe. Instead of heading inside like he originally was going to, Jingles went to the side of the bunker building. He needed to be alone. He didn't feel safe around people when he was vulnerable like this.</p>
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                  <p>Jingles trembled and clenched at his chest. He leaned against the side of the building for support as he tried to take deep breaths. Every time he inhaled it hurt, but Jingles knew that this would eventually pass. His thoughts made it hard to concentrate on breathing. Jingles knew couldn't trust the man he wanted to trust. He couldn't be friends with him. He couldn't have a long term relationship with one damn person and he hated it. He hated being alone like this. All Jingles wanted was someone he could let his guard down with, but he couldn't have that. Maybe he will never find someone he could truly trust. At this realization he slid down to a sitting position and tried his damnedest to hold back tears.</p>
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                  <p>Luck shot up from the table the moment their dinner was interrupted. A huge, buff dragonborn had barged into the room followed by a cartwheeling Jingles. <em>What's he doing back here?</em> Luck's brain tried to process the surprise, but failed as he watched Jingles back-flip onto the muscular arm of the intruder. Luck's eyebrows rose as he followed Jingles down, and then their eyes met.  <em>Oh no...</em> his heart skipped a beat.  <strong>WHOA</strong> someone shout out, and in the next moment Jingles was on the floor and then back up dusting himself off, and the tiefling hardly knew what had happened.  "Yeah... just tired..." Jingles mumbled as he walked out of the kitchen, and Luck could see the defeat in his eyes. The dragonborn bustled after him out of the swinging kitchen doors, and Mia sat down with a huff.</p>
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                  <p>"I don't know where Bal finds these guys! He's such a sucker for jesters. Oh," Mia blushed and threw hand to her mouth as she realized Luck was still standing staring at the door they had disappeared through. "He's not from your party, is he?" she asked, thinking she might have put her foot in it. Luck nodded, Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed hard and took his seat once more, this time on shakier legs. Mia was silent for a few moments, watching Luck. The gears turned in her mind and she leaned across the table gently.  "Were you trying to avoid him?" she asked gently.  "No!" Luck blurted out, shaking his head, but he realized he'd let his guard down for a little too long.  "Then why do you look so shocked?" Mia pressed, and Luck threw her a glare that faltered as he caught her eye. She was just trying to help, really... and she was a stranger.</p>
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                  <p><em>"What's the problem, Kratis?" Briyir asked, climbing over his sister to get up on the crates by the tavern wall.  "Get the hell off me!" "Doesn't matter..." Luck responded, taking a long drag at his short little pipe. The pipeweed was shit and cheaper than he was used to, but when Karnir had offered it, he was loathe to refuse the gift.  "You're acting like a real twat you know!" Karnir chirped up, bumping Luck's arm, causing him to lose a good portion of his smouldering pipeweed. "Sorry." "You're not yourself, man. You're losing your game, you're out of luck ... hahaha!" Luck punched Briyir in the arm for that, and not lightly either.  "Leave it alone guys. I don't need your concern and we don't have time for it; there's a house I've had my eye on for a few weeks. We should hit it up tonight while the owners are at the royal soirée." Luck tapped the rest of the embers out of his pipe and blew at the bowl to clear it out, a scowl on his face all the while.  "I wish you'd open up a little, Kratis..." Karnir looked her mentor in the eyes as she stood up, but he broke eye contact, staring off into the distance as he slipped his pipe away. After a moment, he broke the silence.  "Call me </em>Luck.<em>"</em></p>
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                  <p>"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to," Mia backtracked after seeing the hurt flash through the tiefling's eyes, but something inside Luck told him to trust the dragonborn girl. He'd spent his life most of his life hiding away his feelings, bottling them up inside and carrying on with his life as if he wasn't affected by the burdens he carried within. No one needed to know what he felt inside; it was irrelevant to them, and why would it matter to them anyway? Karnir was always saying something stupid about people and how they could care without having ulterior motives, but he never believed her...  <em>Oh, what the hell. What's the worst that could happen now?</em> Luck took in a deep breath that stretched his chest out, and he sighed a little before he spoke.  "Do you really want to know?" he asked Mia, and the girl reached across the table with an uninvited hand to rest against the back of Luck's fingers. The urge to flinch was strong, but he held firm.  "What's wrong?"</p>
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                  <p>It was past midnight when Luck left the kitchens after helping Mia tidy the cafeteria and locking up the doors.</p>
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                  <p>"You know where to find me if you want to talk some more, Luck," she smiled, resting and hand on his arm and stretching up to give him a peck on the cheek. This time he didn't flinch at all. "Good luck." "Thanks, Mia. You're too kind," he smiled, and Mia batted at his arm as she turned away. "Goodnight Luck." As the dragonborn stepped away into the night, Luck straightened his back and let out the sigh he'd been holding in all night. Talking felt good, and Mia had been so patient, hadn't judged when he'd revealed details of his past or his feelings for Jingles. He'd admitted trying to sell someone, sure, but omitted the fact that it had been the dragonborn girl.</p>
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                  <p><em>You should just talk to Jingles</em> she'd said to him once he'd laid his cards on the table, and as much as he wanted to rail against the advice, he knew Mia was right. <em>If you can't tell him why you acted the way you did, you can't apologise; if you can't apologise then you'll never be on even ground again. Just go talk to him.</em> God, it was going to be hard to do that after how he'd acted today. He'd worn his heart on his sleeve and it had backfired horribly, all because of how he'd acted. At least this time there was the chance to make things right, and that thought alone bolstered his courage as he tried to slap on a brave face. It was a shame he'd probably have to wait until the morning to really speak to Jingles; after his fall earlier this evening he was probably fast asleep in the bunkhouse. Finally, he didn't feel the need to whisk away the thoughts that ran through his head.  <em>Jingles - all tucked up in the bed sleeping, arms wrapped tight around his pillow...</em> It was cute as fuck. With a spring in his step, Luck walked back towards the bunkhouse, stumbling through the dark on the moonless night, getting himself lost until he managed to round the far corner of the bunkhouse. In the dark, he reached out with his hands to follow the wall of the building and let out an undignified shout as he made contact with something warm and soft.</p>
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                  <p>Jingles sat by the side of the bunker with his thoughts for a good while. It looked like he had given up on fighting his urges to cry. The makeup on his face had ran down his cheeks and revealed more of his purple-ish skin. Smudges of white and black blended together near the bottom of his face, below his chin, and some even bled onto his neck. Jingles had taken his gloves off, and instead wiped at his tears and makeup with his bare hands. He didn't want to get white makeup on the dark fabric after all, but as a result there was a good deal of white and black smudges on the sides of his hands as well. He was huddled in a ball; knees hugged against his chest. Jingles stared at the dark sky as he let his thoughts wander. While the moon wasn't out tonight, there were still plenty of stars to look at in between the clouds. He wondered... were <em>they</em> looking at the same stars? ...Were <em>they</em> even still alive? Jingles gripped the fabric on his legs as he felt another wave of tears and sadness rise up inside him. This is why he wanted a private room. At night the jingling jester wasn't happy. In fact, he cried very, very often. He didn't want anyone to see this side of him. It would ruin his daily façade and character. At least outside he could cry. Most people on the island were sleeping, so it was just him out here. Or at least that's what he thought. Jingles squeaked in surprise when something knocked into him. The impact caused him to fall over onto his side, but he caught himself with his hands and arms. Did someone just trip over him? "S-sorry..." He muttered, even though it was clearly not his fault that someone happened to bump into him. Jingles looked up to see who it was. Even in the dark he could tell who was standing before him. It was <em>Luck</em>.</p>
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                  <p>He quickly scrambled to his feet and turned away. His heart thumped loudly in his chest from the shock. <em>Oh no, oh gods no! Anyone but him!</em> Jingles wanted to run, but simply didn't have the energy to even make the attempt. Instead he held his head, took in a deep breath, and let out a sob. Jingles couldn't help it. He had been allowing himself to cry freely all night and his emotions overwhelmed him to the point where he couldn't stop himself. "No, no, no, no..." He trembled and shook his head. The bells on his cowl tinkled sadly. "P-please don't... don't look at me..." Jingles begged. He sounded like a completely different person. Usually there was so much cheer and energy in his voice, but now it was just full of misery.</p>
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                  <p>The lump he'd run into suddenly jumped up and Luck nearly drew his dagger before the creature let forth a sob. "Jingles?" Luck's throat closed up and he felt like he couldn't breathe. The happy little jester was... crying? "What happened?" Luck asked, and despite the fact the drow had asked him not to look, Luck couldn't help but see the white of his make up running down his face and neck, dulled as it was on the moonless night. He was a mess and he looked like he'd been crying for a long time now. "You've been out here since- the kitchen- haven't you?"</p>
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                  <p>The man sounded concerned for him. Was Luck assuming that Jingles was still upset over him? It may not be true right now, but Jingles didn't want the man to know the real reason why he was out here crying his makeup off. "Y... yeah..." He croaked. Jingles sniffed loudly and swallowed a glob of snot. It was gross, but now he could breathe easier. "I-I don't want you to see me l-like this... Please leave..." He asked again. Jingles kept his back to the man and he waited to hear his leaving footsteps. A part of him wanted comfort; he wanted someone to hold him and tell him things will be okay, but given how he couldn't trust Luck anymore he shouldn't be expecting anything like that from him. He resisted the urge to turn around and cling to the man.</p>
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                  <p>It was hard to do, Luck admitted, and he had to push through a lot of doubt and insecurity, but he succeeded: Luck stepped forward slowly and placed his hands gently on Jingles' shoulders. He fully expected the jester to flinch or step back, but when he didn't immediately react, Luck took the chance he'd been wanting to take his whole life. He pulled the little drow forwards and pressed him to his stomach, hands sliding over Jingles' shoulders, and he realised just how small his friend really was.  Jingles' face was perfectly positioned to rest against Luck's chest, but he didn't force the hug, rather let Jingles stand there. If he wanted just to stand, that was fine... but Luck was sure a bear hug wouldn't go amiss if Jingles weren't still angry with him.  "Talking helped me."</p>
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                  <p>Jingles let the taller man pull him into a hug. He was surprised that it happened and it took a moment for him to react. He breathed in Luck's scent and for some reason the tiefling smelled like he'd been near the ocean. Tears spilled out from his eyes and stained Luck's clothes. "L-luck..." He should have pushed the man away, but when he raised his arms they went around him. Jingles clung to the tiefling tightly as if he was afraid of Luck leaving or ending the hug too soon. He cried and sobbed into the man's chest for a few moments. It felt so wonderful to be held. It had been way too long since Jingles had felt the embrace of another. It was warm and comforting and Jingles indulged himself. He seemed to have calmed down a little; reduced to just sniffles and tears. Luck said that talking helped him. Jingles wondered if he should talk. He still wasn't sure if he should trust him, but the man clearly cared about him. Jingles decided that he was going to speak up. It wasn't going to be exactly what he had been thinking about before Luck came, but it was still something that has been troubling him today.</p>
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                  <p>"Luck I... I trusted you and..." His grip tightened. "You... y-you went and tried to sell that dragonborn girl- that poor girl we just rescued... Why?" Jingles asked. He didn't look Luck in the eye. Instead he just rested his forehead against his chest. "Ever since then I... I'm haven't been sure if I even wanted to be on the same island as you. All I could think about is how selfish and greedy you were and how... that was not the person I just met the previous night. I asked myself if you were really someone I should be trusting; if you were someone I should be close to. I wanted to be friends, honestly I did, and I wanted to keep trusting you, but I just couldn't! ...I wondered if you would suddenly try to sell me off if the pay was high enough... and if you could... if you did... I wouldn't be able to handle that kind of b-betrayal..." The jester buried his face into Luck's chest again. Another surge of tears hit Jingles, but he held back his sobs. He finally let go of Luck, and pushed himself out of the embrace so he could look the man in the eye. "I need to know why you did that Luck. I need to know if I can trust you. I-I don't... I don't want to feel like this anymore, okay...? I'm lost, confused, and hurt, but I can't hate you. I just... I want it to be like that night we- ...I want to feel happy... I want to feel safe...." Jingles looked down at his shoes and wiped some stray tears off of his wet cheek. He waited for Luck to explain himself.</p>
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                  <p>It wasn’t how Luck had wanted to explain himself, but the moment had been thrust upon him now and he couldn’t shy away any longer. Thoughts had been roiling in his mind like storm clouds all day… at least he’d had the time to really think on what he’d done and what he wanted to say. He thanked his worthless heritage that his eyes were nothing more than opaque pupils and his skin was dark red even in the night; all this managed to hide so many of the emotions stirring in him behind his thoughts. Taking in a steadying breath, he looked Jingles in the eyes, releasing his hands from the drow’s shoulders. “Can we talk somewhere else? It’s getting cold here and the bunk room walls have more ears than I’d like for this conversation. Come with me to the chapel?”</p>
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                  <p>Luck didn’t get much protest from the jester as he put a hand on his shoulder to guide him to the chapel. Jingles seemed to be more preoccupied with tidying himself up after crying; there wasn’t much light to see, but the white make up on Jingle’s face was smeared across his hands and costume, and Luck knew that if he looked down he would probably have a white patch of his own on his waistcoat. Couldn’t be much worse than all the dirt he’d gotten on it today anyway.</p>
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                  <p>Luck’s heels clicked on the stone floor of the chapel as they entered, a solitary candle above the door the only light lingering in the otherwise pitch black room. The tiefling’s ears twitched as he paused for a moment, listening intently and satisfying himself that no one was skulking in the room. “Come sit with me,” Luck spoke softly lest his voice carry through the open doors. The two sat down next to each other on a bench close to the entrance, and Luck wrapped his hands nervously around themselves as he settled on where to begin. He wished his mind hadn’t been so blank on the walk over now, but he’d been concentrating fully on making sure Jingles didn’t get cold feet and book it. “I regret what I did with the dragonborn girl,” he began, preferring to keep his explanation as simple as possible. They could dive into specifics after he’d gotten the facts off his chest; now wasn’t the time to have his meaning lost with long-winded backstories or explanations that would skew the truth. “My actions were unfair, and I know that, inherently, it’s wrong to sell another person for profit, even if it happens all the time in this world,” he paused, a whimper in his throat that he almost couldn’t suppress. “Even if you had not been there, even if everyone in the party had agreed with me, I would have regretted it. I am sorry to her, to everyone, and to you, Jingles. What I did has ruined our chance at friendship, and I understand why you can’t trust me anymore. I won’t ask forgiveness; I’m long past deserving it.”</p>
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                  <p>Jingles gave Luck a nod when he suggested going to the chapel. If Luck was more comfortable talking there, then he had no problem going. He took the time it took them to get to the chapel to quell his tears and try to rub off the rest of his makeup onto his hands. Without a proper wash there was still some makeup that clung to his face. Jingles didn't mind that the chapel was dark. He did have night vision after all. He quietly sat next to Luck and looked at him as he waited for the man to speak up and explain himself. He was silent while Luck spoke and carefully listened to each syllable. So the tiefling did regret trying to sell that Dragonborn girl... but did he regret it because it had upset Jingles or did he truly feel sorrow and guilt? Jingles couldn't tell. He wanted to give Luck the benefit of the doubt but all the voices in his head were screaming that he shouldn't. "If you really would have regretted it then... why did you do it in the first place?" Jingles questioned with a small glare. "I mean, it is kind of a relief to hear you <em>say</em> you're sorry, but how do I know you <em>mean</em> it? You could just be telling me what I want to hear." He said matter-of-factly. Jingles then looked away. His brow furrowed as he contemplated something. He looked like he wanted to say something else.</p>
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                  <p>"I... suppose you at least deserve to know why I am so upset." Jingle spoke up again. 'Don't do it! Don't say anything! He could sell you in an instant!' His thoughts argued and warned. Jingles knew this was a risk, but he wanted to trust Luck again. He ignored his head's warnings and listened to what his heart wanted instead. "Like you said, people selling people is wrong, but I was also upset because..." He paused. It felt like he couldn't breathe for a moment. 'Shut up, shut up, shut up!' "B-because... I was... I used to be..." He stuttered and hesitated. His voice got really quiet. "<em>...a slave too...</em>" Jingles managed to whisper and looked away with a frown.</p>
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                  <p>Luck’s blood ran cold. <em>When? How? Why?</em> “Who-!” he blurted out loud, and even the embarrassment of losing himself then wasn’t enough to stop the goosebumps on his skin. <em>This isn’t about Jingles right now. Explain yourself!</em> he thought as a myriad of questions shot through is mind. <em>Where would a drow be enslaved? It was <strong>them</strong> too, was it?</em> “Jingles… I’m so sorry…” Luck dared to lean forward and his hand reached out towards the jester. He was frowning, but it didn’t seem angry, and he hadn’t shirked Luck’s touch yet, but Luck still drew up short. So much gold had passed through those hands, deals struck and hands shaken… he couldn’t <em>touch</em> him with the hand that had sold so <em>many</em> innocent victims. <em>Never a tiefling</em> his mind uselessly produced, and he growled out loud at himself for that paltry excuse. Luck shot up from the bench, wood rocking at his sudden movement. “You can’t trust me, Jingles. You shouldn’t – not after what I’ve done. I’m sorry-” he dropped his head down and walked towards the chapel door. He had to leave this island, <em>now</em>.</p>
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                  <p>Jingles jumped a little at Luck's initial reaction. Suddenly the man was interested in who had enslaved him? He might have told him, but he held his tongue. 'Don't. Say. Anything. Else.' Jingles threatened himself. He didn't know what Luck would do with that information. If Luck was truly someone he couldn't trust then... oh gods, what if he tried to get in contact with his owner? Jingles hadn't been freed, he <em>escaped.</em> For all he knew his owner could still be looking for his property. His heart sank and hit his stomach at the realization that what he told Luck could lead him right back to enslavement. Jingles flinched when Luck suddenly got up from the bench. He said he was sorry and... that he couldn't trust him? No, that couldn't mean... Was Luck going to tell? Not if Jingles had anything to do about. He flipped over the bench, caught up with Luck and grabbed his wrist all in a swift second. Jingles gripped him tightly and shot a glare up at the man. "Why <em>not?</em>" He asked through gritted teeth. Jingles was going to give Luck one more chance to explain himself before he did anything else.</p>
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                  <p>He looked down at the little man and tears sprang from his eyes without warning. “I’ve sold people before, Jingles. Dozens. Drows, dragonborns… I-” he cut himself off. The look of anger in the jester’s eyes cut him open and he tore his arm away to throw a punch into the wall of the chapel. <em>That was a stupid move, idiot.</em> “All for this one pig in Crestport; he’s a high-up in the society and his thugs-” Luck’s voice choked and he gasped a watery breath. <em>Jingles doesn’t need to know.</em> “If I keep the supply of slave sales up, send him the gold… he keeps tieflings out of his network… Jingles, I did it to protect my <em>friends</em>, I-” Luck jammed his teeth together hands balling into fists and he felt the scraped skin of his knuckles break and bleed. “<em>I’m the monster</em>…” He'd thought he'd run out of tears for this years ago, but they sprang back up with full force now. It was always so easy to cry when you'd already broken down.</p>
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                  <p>Jingles' eyes went wide at Luck's words. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. Luck... he <em>sold</em> people? Jingles just <em>admitted</em> to being a slave to someone who <em>sold</em> them for a living! At this moment something inside Jingles snapped and fury and rage rose up in his chest. His emotions made it hard to listen to what else Luck was saying. Something about a pig in... <em>Crestport</em>. Oh. He had connections in <em>Crestport</em>. This was bad. This was really bad. Jingles assumed the worse. "You...! Y-you...!" Jingles trembled with anger. His teeth ground together- did drow always have sharp teeth? -and his hands balled up in tight, hot fists. Past memories flashed through his head of harder times. Oh, what he would give to get his hands around the person's neck who sold him- who sold <em>them</em>. Luck would have to do. Jingles crouched down and suddenly sprang back up. He leapt at Luck, a dagger now in his hand. "<strong>You're no better than the pigs you've sold to!!</strong>" He hissed a literal fiery insult at Luck with Scathing Insult as he tried to sink his dagger into the man's flesh. Jingles was willing to do anything to keep himself from being enslaved again, even if he had to kill someone he originally thought he could trust.</p>
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                  <p>Luck backed up as the drow came at him, -sharp?- teeth bared back in anger. He hadn't expected it, but he deserved it none the less. He hesitated for a brief moment and in that second he was <em>burned</em> across the cheek with a fiery scathing insult. He hardly had a moment to realise the seriousness of the situation before Jingles’ dagger was coming straight for his gut. Luck managed to turn his body away but not without receiving a slash across his delicate waistcoat, deep enough that he could feel the blade had drawn blood. Luck wanted to shout, he wanted to call on Jingles to stop, please, <em>stop, Jingles!</em> but his words would have fallen on deaf ears. He could see the rage and hatred burning in Jingles’ eyes, and the grim line of his once-beautiful smile was set in a hideous deathly scowl. He was out for blood now, and it scared Luck. Scared him… but he deserved it. When Jingles turned around from this blow, he wouldn’t stop it. Instead, Luck straightened up despite the spike of pain protesting in his side, and he swiftly turned to face Jingles, eyes locked, willingly surrendering.</p>
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                  <p>Jingles growled as he missed his target, but he could tell from the small splatter of blood that he had not missed entirely. He turned and adjusted the blade in his hand, ready to deliver another blow, but paused. Instead of fighting back like he expected, the man stood straight up and stared at him. Was Luck surrendering? Jingles wondered if Luck thought surrendering would get him to stop. No, it wouldn't. He was too enraged with the man to stop, and if Luck wasn't going to fight back then so be it. "<strong>Damn, coward!</strong>" Another Scathing Insult left his lips. "You don't deserve any mercy!" Jingles came at Luck again with his dagger, with lethal intent. He wanted to bury his dagger into the man to the hilt and split open his insides. He wanted to see the man's blood spill out and life slip away from his eyes.</p>
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                  <p>He was right... Luck <em>was</em> a coward. If he'd been any sort of man at all, he never would have agreed to the demands of that <em>vile fiend</em> in Crestport. So, like a coward, Luck turned in time to avoid Jingles' blade which managed another cut, this time deeper and closer to his heart. "I don't want to hurt you anymore," Luck ground out between clenched teeth, grasping uselessly at his slashed chest. This time he had the sense to back away. "Please don't make me fight you!"</p>
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                  <p>Another miss. Another cut. If felt good to cut into Luck, but it wasn't enough for the enraged jester. He needed more blood. He needed to kill Luck to feel any sort of satisfaction. "You don't want to hurt me <em>anymore</em>?" Jingles repeated in a mocking tone. "So you <em>did</em> you mean to hurt me before?" His questions rhymed in a condescending way. Jingles lunged at Luck again, aiming his dagger down onto his stomach. It was clear that Jingles wasn't going to stop his assault until Luck was dead or if he was otherwise stopped somehow.</p>
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                  <p>That got to him. Something about the jester's tone sparked an anger inside Luck that he'd been trying to keep down. The new dagger he'd acquired now weighed heavy in the sheath under his arm, and as he saw Jingles line up to take another stab at him, he moved. His Sleight of Hand was skilled enough to let him whip open his jacket and remove the blade before Jingles reached him, but he was only a little too slow. Without time to move, Jingles' dagger drew a path straight into his gut, and the tiefling cried out as the blade dug into the soft flesh above his hip. "You little bastard!" Luck swore in a pained voice, back-slashing his necrotic dagger across Jingles' face.</p>
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                  <p>Jingles hadn't expected Luck's dagger to whip out and slash him in the face. While his reflexes did get him to turn away, Luck's dagger got him good in the cheek. He cried out in surprise and pain and backed off. He took his dagger with him and ripped it out of Luck's gut. Jingles huffed and reached up at his new wound and brushed it with the side of his hand. It seeped with blood. He took a moment to look at his blood on his hand. It was as red as his costume. The cut stung like any cut would, but there was something else to the pain. It was the necrotic enchantment that added on an extra burning sensation. Despite this, his stomach still churned with hate. So what if Luck was fighting back now? He still wanted to kill him. Jingles jumped at Luck. This time his blade aimed for the tiefling's neck. He was determined to end this before his own costume got slashed.</p>
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                  <p>He'd yet to use this blade, but it's first slice was clean... Too clean. Luck's hand trembled as Jingles backed up and swiped at the bloodied gash on his cheek. <em>Oh god I've scarred him for life</em> Luck's brain ached and he couldn't help it as the blade slipped from his fingers to the floor. The jester's blade had been pulled out of him at some point but he couldn't feel the pain at all, but a phantom sensation made his cheek sting as if he were feeling the pain he'd inflicted on Jingles. <em>What the <strong>fuck</strong> have you done?</em> The tiefling could see Jingles aiming up a swing at his neck and he knew from experience that his height wouldn't stop the jester from reaching him... In a panic now, stricken with horror at his own actions and grief, Luck dropped to the floor, hands bared in surrender. "Jingles, don't!" he begged, and while it wasn't beneath him to beg, a niggling drop of shame clawed at his chest. "I can't bear to hurt you anymore!" he covered his face with his hands.</p>
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                  <p>Jingles stopped his movements when Luck dropped to the ground. He raised a brow, befuddled by the sudden surrender. 'I can't bear to hurt you anymore!' The man admitted. "That's too bad." Jingles raised his dagger. He eyed the back of the man's head. It was exposed and an easy target. A blow there would kill the tiefling. Jingles pictured what it would be like. His dagger would bury itself into his head and hair. Luck's lifeless body would fall to the side as blood pooled around the entrance of the wound. He expected imagining such a thing would bring him satisfaction and sate his anger, but it actually made him... sad? Jingles hesitated, his hands trembling as he held the dagger above Luck's head. This man was a monster. Why would he mourn him? As brief as it was, his thoughts flashed to that night. It felt like it was decades away, and Jingles found himself missing every moment. Tears leaked out from his eyes and some stung his cheek. Despite Luck admitting to selling slaves, the jester couldn't bring himself to swing down his blade. He wasn't the monster that caused him so much grief. Luck had showed him such kindness earlier he... Luck cared about him. Luck cared about him and that's why he couldn't hurt the little jester. Perhaps Luck wasn't as much as a monster as Jingles initially thought. "If you're a monster and I kill you... what does would that make me...?" Jingles asked breathlessly. His stomach churned with violent and conflicting emotions. "Killing you won't solve anything." He quietly reasoned and finally let his arms fall to his sides. Jingles looked away with shame. "Don't make me regret this." He warned with his last bit of anger and turned away.</p>
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                  <p>Luck fully expected to die by the blade Jingles had raised above his head. In his own mind, a little spark of hope had briefly bubbled up. <em>If I die, there are no more slaves...</em> But he knew that wasn't true. Jingles had paused then, and under his breath the drow had muttered something about Luck's death not solving anything. He was right. "<em>Don't make me regret this</em>," Jingles mustered through clenched teeth, then walked away. Luck watched him turn around and when the drow had reached the door, he called out. The tiefling's voice was shaky now from the pain radiating from his wounds, but he tried to keep his voice clear as he spoke. "Jingles, I-" he swallowed, a copper taste burning his tongue from where he'd bitten it,"I don't want to do it anymore. I want to help these dragonborn, and the tieflings; everyone. It isn't my choice to sell them, really. Can't you believe me?" His plea was pitiful, heart on his sleeve as he looked into the eyes and the grey skin of Jingles' bare face. He was so handsome, Luck realized, without his make up. Murderous anger still flashed in his eyes, but damned if he didn't look attractive like that. A pang of guilt stronger than the pain in his stomach told him he'd never get to see Jingles like this again and he couldn't help but cry at the thought now. <em>At least he didn't kill me.</em></p>
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                  <p>Jingles stopped in the doorway when Luck called out to him. He turned to look at the man- no- the <em>monster</em> on the ground pleading pathetically. Jingles tilted his head as he considered Luck's words. His dagger shifted idly between hands. "I can't." He finally said after a moment that felt longer than it actually was. "But if you are serious- if you really do care about the dragonborn, drows, tieflings, or anyone, then stop being a part of the problem. Selling more people to save only a few only just makes things worse." Jingles told Luck. His tone was cold and cruel, but he stated the truth. "Maybe then I'll believe you." He turned away to leave. "If you don't, I might reconsider the decision I made tonight." Jingles threatened darkly before he walked away from the chapel. As he walked off he decided that he should get his stuff and move to a different area in the bunker. Or maybe he should just take his bedroll and sleep outside from now on. Jingles couldn't stand the mere thought of being anywhere close to Luck. He was still very upset with him and the temptation to kill him while he slept would be too much for Jingles to bear. A part of Jingles anger morphed into sadness. Even though he hadn't killed Luck it still felt like he lost a friend. There was no one on his island he could truly trust, and Jingles regretted opening up to the tiefling. It was so foolish of him, but he did learn his lesson. He wasn't going to let anyone else in. Ever.</p>
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                  <p>"I can't stop," Luck mumbled pathetically to himself after Jingles left. If he stopped selling slaves, they'd get his friends... <em>They'd be better off dead than slaves</em>, he reasoned to himself again and again. <em><strong>I'd</strong> rather be dead than a slave</em> he sighed, but the doubts remained. <em>Does Jingles really think life as a slave is better? I suppose he'd know... But did he buy his freedom or escape?</em> The questions he'd amassed were beginning to make his mind ache, and the pain coupled with the wounds he'd received and the blood he was losing certainly wasn’t making it easier to think. Rolling himself over, Luck shifted to prop himself up against a bench. It wasn't comfortable, but it'd do for now. He was fortunate he always kept his sail-makers needles nestled deep within his coat. From an inside pocket he pulled a small pouch which unrolled to reveal a set of intimidating-looking needles. From his collection, he selected a thick, curved bone needle, waxed thread, and readied himself a length to sew. As he threaded the needle with shaking hands, he thought to pat himself down. <em><strong>Damn it!</strong></em> he thought, <em>no drink…</em> Luck placed the needle gently between his lips and tore at his waistcoat and shirt buttons, peeling back the sweaty, damp material to inspect the gash in his chest.</p>
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                  <p>“That’s fine,” he mumbled to himself, then dropped his arms for a quick breather. They were getting heavy now he was bleeding out. With an almighty sigh, Luck shifted his hands over to his trousers and undid the button, lifting his hips up <em>just</em> enough to shirk the clothes off and reveal the full extent of his stomach wound. Were he not in such pain, decency might have forced him to keep the hemline above his crotch while stripping in a chapel, but frankly he was beyond giving a damn about the sanctity of the chapel now. He wiped away the blood pooling in the crook of his lean hip and cursed as he saw the depth of the puncture. It was small, but he could feel the blade had gone deep.<br/>“Fuck, you stuck me good, Jingles,” he laughed and broke into a coughing fit, moaning as the movement jostled his abdomen. Without any liquor to wash the wound (or numb himself up, rather), Luck realized he’d have to close the wound unaided. The healers could see to it properly in the morning, but if he didn’t close it up now he’d bleed out by then. As he winced, pinching the skin together with slippery fingers, he idly wondered how close to an artery Jingles’ blade had come. If the little jester was lucky, he might not even have to follow out his grave threats… Luck lined up the tip of his needle with the side of his wound and plunged in.</p>
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                  <p>“FUCK!” he ground out, teeth clenching as he broke the skin with his needle. Before he could even begin to feed the thread through to tie off, he had to rip the shirt from his arms and stuff it into his mouth lest he shatter his teeth. The shirt was already ruined; his sharp teeth would get through it fast if he didn’t sew himself up quick enough. The tieflings initial screams were muffled by the shirt, and he <em>screamed</em> as the rough waxed thread pulled through his skin… his needle bit into the exposed flesh of the top side of the wound and he nearly dropped the needle inside. Blood still oozed up steadily, making the needle slippery in his hands, and so he tried desperately to keep his mind on holding the needle rather than watching the thread cinching his skin together. It got easier towards the end, whether from fatigue or a complete numbing of his sense of pain. Luck tied off his wound and pressed what scraps remained of his shirt to his hip, weakly spitting out shredded cotton and feeling his jaw ache from tension. The blood was already starting to coagulate now and the slash on his chest looked to have sorted itself out nicely. Satisfied there was'n't much risk of the wound re-opening, Luck cut the thread from the needle and dropped it to his side. He pulled his pants up a little higher to preserve whatever dignity he had left, and found comfort in the fact that someone would likely find him in the next hour or so. The old dragonborn man he’d seen at the chapel before always seemed to come by early, and it was probably only an hour from sunrise now. As he slipped down to the floor, Jingles’ betrayed face flashed behind his eyes and the tiefling begged himself to fall into a dreamless sleep.</p>
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                  <p>Jingles made it to the bunker alone. For that he was thankful. Either Luck had enough brains to not follow him or he couldn't have followed him due to his wounds. He shook his head to brush off any concern he might feel for the man. He swiftly and quietly packed the rest of his things into his bag. Jingles paused as he hand brushed against a letter. It was a letter that was addressed to Luck. The invitation. <em>Shit.</em> Jingles had nearly forgotten about that stupid party in Crestport and he still had to give Luck his own invitation. He doubted the tiefling would want to go, but who was he to deny him that choice? Not tonight, though. Maybe tomorrow will be better. Maybe tomorrow he could put on a mask and act nice to Luck. Maybe... He finished packing up his things and swung the straps of his pack over his shoulders. Carefully, Jingles stepped out of the bunker. He let out the breath he was holding after he finally got out of there. If anyone had caught him packing or leaving he wasn't sure he could lie his way though it, especially with all his makeup nearly cried off. As much as Jingles would love to leave the island, there was no way off unless you went by dragon or somehow had enough stamina to swim for long distances. Jingles had neither. He opted for settling at the outskirts of town. He found a nice clearing to set down his stuff and rolled out his bedroll. The night was quiet with the chatter of insects serving as the only background noise. It was peaceful.</p>
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                  <p>Jingles pulled out some wet wipes he had gotten on his last mission and began to clean off his face. He found that these were extremely useful in getting his makeup off. Jingles winced as he wiped around the cut on his cheek. It burned, but it didn't bleed anymore. The jester hoped that his makeup will be able to hide the wound tomorrow. It will probably scab up by then and he can put makeup over it. He wondered if it would leave a scar. Jingles frowned and reassured himself it would not. It'll heal eventually. Too tired to bother with his costume and change Jingles settled into his bedroll. While the night sky was beautiful and he was alone Jingles found himself cold and the ground hard compared to a bed. He closed his eyes. 'Just deal with it', he told himself. At the very least, being cold and sleeping on hard ground was something he was actually familiar with. His thoughts took a dark turn into bitter memories before the jester managed to fall asleep and Jingles was immediately plagued with nightmares of his past.</p>
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